I haven't been writing much lately, even though I have the best intentions to. I feel like I'm currently busy living life and don't have the time to sit down and write about it. Most days I feel like I'm going, going, going, and by the time I get back from work, I'm gone. Too tired to write or think creatively.
But this morning I woke up and suddenly needed to write. Things that have been swirling around in my mind during the week finally pieced themselves together into a realization on a Saturday morning.
I've always imagined myself being a good parent, like most non-parents do. Those tantrums Johnny is throwing in the store? I'll handle them like a pro. It's always easy to look and parents and see what you will do when it's
not your child. When you haven't been dealing with the same thing for weeks and months and years.
I've always thought that I could be calm in the midst of stressful situations and when my child is screaming could answer in a sweet voice. I know a mother like this and I admire her greatly, and I thought I could do the same....but...
Then I got a cat. A five week old kitten to be exact. I didn't realize that it would be a sanctification process in the making. I didn't realize that it would open up my eyes to what I may lack in "parenting" skills.
I knew a kitten would be a handful, but by jove and I didn't realize that it would bring me to my knees on a Saturday morning and make me wonder if I should cry or scream, as I picked bobby pins out of my drain and out of her litterbox. I found a sponge on my bed. My hair ties are in her waterbowl. She'd figured out how to open my medicine cabinet and pull everything out. There were whiffs of shredded toilet paper floating around. I found old treasures and letters from special friends I'd had in elementary school scattered in various places on the kitchen floor. And on top of this, she'd spent all morning biting me, after a night of meowing and keeping me up.
I consider myself a strong person. I really do. Not much can break me, or so I thought. But over weeks, when it's the same thing over and over again...I lose my resolve. I get angry. I yell.
And here I am thinking I'll be a perfect parent. As I sat there scooping bobby pins out of the litterbox, I had to laugh. I became aware of my selfish little thoughts, as I whined inwardly.
I just want one calm perfect day to myself, is that too much to ask?
And suddenly I realized how much I am going to need God if I ever become a mother one day. I already need Him so much now, when all I'm dealing with is a cat. Inwardly I have mounds of selfishness that need to be chipped away.
I want rest. I want perfection. I want a clean house and eight hours of sleep. Not necessarily bad things, except when I will sin to get them.
I'm hopelessly lost on my own. I need my Savior in heaps and droves. And I'm thankful of how He reminds me of my need, on Saturday mornings, with a silly cat.
